Further Excerpts From The Poetry Journal

Starting back a bit, since I interjected a birthday post between the last set of journal bits and this set.

February 15, 2017

Work
By C.K. Armistead
2/15/17 

Sometimes the words
All fall in line
And dance along
And everything is fine
Other times they stumble
Through my brain
And haphazardly tumble
Like a derailed train.

There is no art
No science here
It comes from the heart
And I hope it is sincere
It comes, or it doesn't
I have no say
I'm at the Muse's mercy
Every single day.



A messy business
This writing is
Changing your mind
And crossing out lines
Rewordings and
Rephrasings

Edits
And corrections
Creativity
Is
Nothing
If
Not
Messy.


So.
All the poems I got today seem to be about writing and the fickle nature of the muse.
Better check my Cohen book and see what the song lyrics are for today...

"Heart With No Compassion"
 By L. Cohen
"I greet you from the other side
Of sorrow and despair
With a love so vast and shattered
It will reach you everywhere.

And I sing this for the captain
Whose ship has not been built
For the mother in confusion
Her cradle still unfilled

For the heart with no compassion
For the soul without a king
For the prima ballerina
Who cannot dance to anything.

Through the days of shame that are coming
Through the nights of wild distress
Tho' your promise count for nothing
You must keep it nonetheless.

You must keep it for the captain
Whose ship has not been built
For the mother in confusion
Her cradle still unfilled
For the heart with no compassion
I greet you from the other side"

Supposedly this is commentary on his Buddhism and the compassion central to the faith.It is a message for any faith, really.
"Though your promise count for nothing
You must keep it nonetheless"
That strikes me as central.  Even if you feel worthless, like you cannot live up to your promise, if the point is moot, even, you must STILL keep your word.
There are some in power today who need to learn this.

February 16, 2017

Today's Cohen lyrics:
"Here It Is"

Never heard this one that I know of.
The part that stands out:
" Here is your cross,
Your nails and your hill;
And here is your love,
That lists where it will.
May everyone live
And may everyone die.
Hello , my love,
And my love, Goodbye."

We are all always coming or going in this life -
and usually going, as we are all caught in Time's web, and can only go forward...


Such a lovely day
But I am stuck indoors.
At least I had a walk
This morning.
It's cold out there
But that's to be expected
In Winter
Though it is much warmer
Than one would expect
For February.


February 17, 2017

I still have a couple of hours of work, but I am already in vacation mode.
I went to Dick's Sporting good and got my traditional new sneakers - Ghost 9s this time, by Brooks.  Wearing a pair here at work
They are pretty comfy.

Today's lyrics are
"Hey,That's No Way To Say Goodbye."
A lovely, lyrical, sweet and sad piece- some beautiful lines in there-
"I loved you in the morning
our kisses deep and warm
your hair upon the pillow
like a sleepy golden storm."

and
"I'm not looking for another
as I wander in my time,
Walk me to the corner,
Our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you
as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes,
like the shoreline and the sea
but let's not talk of  love or
chains and things we can't untie,
Your eyes are soft with sorrow,
hey, that's no way to say goodbye."

Somewhat made me think of certain episodes of the 1980s version of Beauty and the Beast.  Vincent was so connected to Catherine, told her she was always with him, and yet kept trying to send her away - for her own good.  Yet, though they should have, they never shared the joys of that first verse. 


The birthday revels continue -
I have a new fountain pen
Another Cross - a quite lovely polished stainless with golden accents.
It writes very smoothly and sweetly, too.
My husband spoils me, indulges me terribly!

I had too much caffeine and sugar before work.
I was very happy and full of energy
at least for awhile.
Hoping I can calm down enough to sleep -
I AM tired.
This ink is quite a jolly shade of blue- looking rather dark and ordinary until it dries -
My handwriting is suffering because of my haste -
I  must slow down so that my letters have their proper shapes -


February 19, 2017

The birthday revels continue unabated in spite of thunderstorms tonight.

Thunder grumbles in the night
Sets my drowsing thoughts to flight
It's too soon to have to be wary,
Come on, it's only February!

Outside
The wind howls
The rain pours
The thunder growls
But inside
I am safe and warm
Wrapped up
In dreams
Of you.
Storms will come
And storms will go
In the end,
One thing I know
In all Above
And all Below
Nothing will
Destroy
Our love.

Time, thou most frustrating beast
Always running out
Or plodding endlessly on
Give us a chance at least
To laugh and shout
Beneath the sun.

And rain like a fire hose
Swept the land
Rushing rivers close
To where I stand
Alone upon this
Darkened plain
Not frightened
But alive
Excited
Not in pain.

Mother Nature seems quite angry
She has been crashing, rumbling and howling
Around here
For at least an hour.
Better pay attention.

February 24, 2017

I had hoped to write more this week.
Instead, I have written less.

Dealing with service  people,
Doing my birthday week
Self-indulgence
Just not set up to sit and listen to the Muse.

After a beautiful, unseasonably warm day yesterday -
Today has also been beautiful, but it is cold, and very windy.

Today as I walked
I heard the symphony
Of impromptu flags
Made of plastic bags
As they crackled and snapped
And were wind- slapped
In the almost bear  branches
of the trees.


February  27, 2017

The air conditioner is broken
The door is propped open
And the wind is moaning
A low-voiced dirge
Of doom
During this meeting.

The weather gods
Are informing us
Of the gathering
Doom.
Or at least the wind
Is singing
A very convincing
Song of gloom.

March 1, 2017

Lyrics today are Humbled In Love

"You will never see a man this naked
I will never hold a woman this close."

This statement comes at the end - the end of the song about the end of a relationship.
It's true, those we drift away from may still be the ones who see us at our most vulnerable.

Far opposite of yesterday,
Our air conditioner today
is at full freezing  capacity
As I sit here
Being very grateful for
My sweater!  #LibraryLife

March 4, 2017

This journal is too often neglected
This pen is a bit leaky for some reason.

Today it was sunny and breezy for my walk-
but by the time I came to work (my half-Saturday)
it was cloudy, and the wind was very strong out of the south.

Today's Cohen long lyrics are :  "Hunter's Lullaby"

Some say the hunger is seeking the carnal world, leaving the spiritual world behind
Perhaps he is hunting his lost and responsibility-free youth -
That is something all of us would be tempted to do,
But the joys that come with some of those adult responsibilities are far too precious to let go.

On such a day
I would rather stay
Curled up on my settee
With a book and some tea
Instead, here I stand
In library land
At the Customer Service Desk
To assist in library quests.


That's about it for this batch.  A few really good bits in there, but not a lot.  That's the way writing is sometimes.

Watch Out, It's Poetry Month!!

April's Fool
C.K. Armistead 4/1/2016

And I wonder
Sometimes
If I am the only one
Who isn't paying attention
And missing the joke.
Everyone else is laughing,
And I wonder why.
Sometimes
I am afraid they are
Laughing
AT me,
Which I feel bad about,
IF you laugh WITH me,
I don't mind a bit.
My heart isn't exactly
On my sleeve,
But I can still be
Hurt.
Pretty deeply
When you're not looking
I cry all over the
Pages
And rain words
Like tears
Until I feel
Well again.

The Stuff Of Life
C.K. Armistead
4/2/2016

"Do not squander time,
It is the stuff Life
Is made of"
Or some similar thing
Said the sundial
Shown on
Gone With The Wind
I have always wondered
About that.
Time is such a fickle commodity.
Running fast as Spring storm water
Or as slowly as the proverbial
Molasses.
Slowly, and wearily
Ticking by
When life is hard upon us,
When we are sad,
Or waiting for news
Rushing and roaring
Right past us
When there are things
We need to do,
When we are with the ones
We love and do not
Often get to see.
There never seems to be enough time
To just hug the stuffing out
Of the ones you love so much
That are usually far away
Never enough time
To stop and say
I love you,
I really do.
My life would be SO much less
Without you in it,
Even if you are usually
So far away
 Physically.
 So, all of you
That I rarely see,
But who mean
So much to me,
(And I hope by now
you all KNOW who you are.)
I love you, I really do
My life would be SO much less
Without you in it.
Really.
Please know that it is true.

The Thief
C.K.Armistead
4/2/16

Time is a thief
We all know this.
You look up  one day
And the face staring back at you
Has wrinkles
And your hair is grey.
You think about things,
And it seems they happened
Only yesterday.
But it's been more
Than 30 years.
You aren't that old yet?
Don't feel too cocky.
Time's stealing your life away, too.
You just haven't noticed yet.
Why all this musing on time today?
Well,
Thirty years ago today
My Pop died.
He's been gone now
Longer than I had him with me in my life.
I was 26 years old.
Already married,
Already not living at home,
But still his Baby Girl.
His Sugar Foot.
Katie Didder.
Only HE got to call me that.
Nobody else better try it.
No matter how much
Of life Time steals away,
That little girl
Who loves her Pop
Is still here.
Still trying
To make him proud.

Spring
C.K.Armistead
4/3/2016

Warm inviting sunshine
But the breeze still has an edge
Trees still not quite leafed out
But daffodils blooming under the hedge.

Spirit yearning to stretch and grow
Yet flesh resistant to trust
That new, flickering, struggling glow
Afraid to stand and shake off the rust.

A season of such contradiction
Of profuse, expansive bloom
And sudden, freezing contraction
Of hope in the light,  but full consciousness of the gloom.

Lord of Springtime, Lord of love
Strengthen our trembling hearts
That we may show the world your love
And spread peace to all its parts.

And Do You Know?
C.K. Armistead 4/3/16

We speak so seldom
Hardly seems we could be
Friends.
Yet, I believe we are.
Your smile makes my heart happy
Your adventures are of interest
Even though you are not
Right here
In my everyday life.
So many of you,
Friends and family
Both.
That live in my heart
And always will
Though we don't often
Connect.
And do you know
That you are loved?
I hope you do
Because you are.
And do you know
It matters not
That we aren't close
You are still cared for.
Your presence matters
To me in this world.
Don't forget that
Please.
I've lost one who did forget
Who thought he was all alone
When he was surrounded by
Love.
Please remember
You are loved.
You are.
And do you know how dearly?
Do you?

Planting Dreams
C.K. Armistead
4/4/16

Spring air stirs the soul
Calls me outdoors,
Sets me to dreaming of beautiful
Flowers
Fragrant herbs,
And pleasant shady
Evenings
In the garden
With you.

Soil amended
New plants planted,
Prayers said for their
Prosperity.
Achy back and sore knees
Water bill going higher
All for the dream
Of fragrant beauties
Found in this garden
If Nature so pleases.

Brutus Waiting

C.K.Armistead 

4/5/16

He sits by Daddy's  chair

Ears up

Listening,

Bright eyes watching. 

He's always up to make a new friend,

But his eyes

Are watching 

For Mama.

He's  well behaved,

Quite polite,

Greeting all who greet him,

Never pestering those that don't

He always seems a happy boy

But oh, when Mama comes out,

You've never seen such joy!

If he could, he'd twist and shout

A Good Night For Sleeping
By C.K.Armistead
4/5/16

"It's so windy,
It's a good night for sleeping."
My Pop used to say.
I used to think he was nuts.
All I could hear
Was the old tree outside (and above)
My bedroom creaking, groaning,
And moaning like Marley's ghost
Thought it was coming for me
For sure.
But Pop loved the wild song of the wind
Loved the whispers of the places
It had been
The power in that invisible
Breeze
That could bend and even buckle
Mighty trees.
Even now,
When the wind is especially high,
I remember Pop
And his anticipation
Of being sung to sleep
By the song
Of the wind.

Awake 

By C.K. Armistead 

4/6/16

To wake up

To move, stretch,

Feel with your body

That your mind

Has come online again.

My body often resists,

Telling my brain 

To shut up,

I need more time.

Perhaps, rather, it is

My mind

That  seeks to stay

In the carefree realm

Of slumber, 

Where no demands are made, 

And no responses expected. 

To be awake, aware of the world 

Around us

Implies a responsibility 

To interact with that world.

There are things We must do,

Responses we must make 

If we are to function properly 

In the world 

Both for our own comfort, 

And that of others.

If we seek to remain 

Asleep,

We don't fulfill our side

Of the bargain with

Society 

That allows us all to live 

With at least some degree

Of peace.

We must, therefore, 

Be awake and aware,

And do our share

Of the work

Of civilization. 

So that the agents of

Chaos

Are not allowed

To destroy those 

Who cannot defend 

Themselves

Those who need their rest

And trust the rest of us 

To watch over the safety 

Of their sleep.

The Cyclical Nature Of Time
C.K. Armistead 4/7/16

Birth.
Life.
Death.
Waking,
Doing,
Sleeping.
Childhood,
Adulthood,
Old age.
We begin with little
But potential
Add knowledge
And experience
Every day.
End up full
Of emotions
And knowledge
But out of time
To share them
The trick is
To make the most
Of the middle
Life
Doing
Adulthood
The time to collect knowledge
And experiences,
But also to share them
So that old age
May be spent
Relishing them.
And all those
Who we met
Along the way.

Peaceful  Place

By C. K. Armistead 

4/8/ 16

There is an astonishing 

Amount of peace

To be found in one's own

Garden.

Never mind the awful amount

Of work involved in establishing 

And maintaining it

The blooms

And the birdsong

Bring such balm

As offsets all the toil.

A "Good" Tired
By C.K.Armistead
 4/9/16

Achy,
But not sore.
Weary,
But capable of more.
Awake,
But not wired.
Satisfied -
It's a good tired.

Goals set
And accomplished
Challenges met
Feeling astonished
That the race is done,
Our tasks are complete
We have won
We rest replete.


Dark Is His Path
By C.K.Armistead
April 11, 2016

When the sky
Turns ugly
And the wind whispers
Of threats coming
I turn my eyes
To the horizon,
And see the storm
Approaching.
I remember then
A line from an old hymn
"And dark is his path
On the wings of the storm."
About God's nearness
Even in turbulent times.
Still
It seems he does have
A very rugged and dark
Path
To come to save us
Along the flanks
Of that boiling,
Dark,
Flashing,
Howling
Storm.

Hurry And Worry

C.K. Armistead  4/12/16

The phone rings incessantly. 

On more than one line.

No sooner dealt with,

And it rings again. 

Time I do not have, 

For I am due 

At the service desk

Where a line of customers  wait.

All afternoon, 

One question after another,

One smile after another. 

Often they come with worry,

And because of information we have,

They leave with a smile.

There have been enough of those today

To make the hurry worthwhile.


Writing
C.K.Armistead 4/13/1
When staring at a blank page
It seems time drags like the last ice age
When ideas finally pop
You write so fast your hand will drop
Lifeless into your lap
Before you run out of creative sap.
If you try to force the muse
She will pout and flatly refuse
No words will flow, none will fit
What you produce will sound like, well, Sh*t.
When at last the muse agrees,
Writing will become a breeze
Images and words will show it
You are and always have been a poet.


I suppose these next lines count as a poem.  I wrote them today in honor of a friend's birthday:

To my friend Ron:
I can't make collages or do video
 Words are the only art I know
 So from my heart I will say
 I wish you a very happy Birthday

Perhaps I should rather say
 Greetings and felicitations on your natal day!


Is That Me?
By C.K. Armistead
4/14/16
Sometimes the mirror
Startles me.
Who is that lady?
The one with grey hair
But a cute haircut,
And who is in better shape
Than I thought I was.
Is that me?
Really?
Because I feel
Clumsy and big
Even though I am
But little.
I feel like the awkward teen
Who wrote angst filled verse
And dreamed of making
A splash in the world
But was afraid
Of her own words.
Who is that confident
Woman
Looking back at me?


For The Birds
C.K.Armistead
4/14/16

Dear Starling in the pecan tree
Bleeping and clicking like
An electronic device at me
Please be so kind as to take a hike.
Your incessant noise is most unpleasant
And the St. Francis statue below you
Doesn't look good wearing your excrement
Kindly find another loo!

Dear Blue Jay creaking on the fence
I know you only want a bath, you see
Please know that I won't take offense
If you make use of our birdbath facility.
I only ask that you take care
And don't fling the water everywhere
I'm not sitting that far away,
And I must look presentable at work today.

Dear Mocking bird scolding the squirrel
Please realize that he doesn't care.
You can scold and dive and whirl
And he'll just stop and blankly stare.
Please take your loud shenanigans
Away, I fiercely plead
For I have to begin all over again
This page I've been trying to read.

Dear Robin singing from on high
You alone are welcome here
Your song so lovely makes me sigh
It is a pleasure to my ear
If those others would so pardon
Us, and be on their merry way
Joining the pigeon squadron
 Off to find the next full feeder of the day.

Dear Sparrows flitting everywhere,
You may stay as well, I guess.
Your merry play without care
Eases much of my stress.
Though most of you can be a pain,
The yard would be lonely without you
So please, come back and visit again
But don't use St. Francis for a loo!

Come With Me!
C.K.Armistead
4/15/16

Come with me!
Look!
See?
It's all here in a
Book.
Adventures galore
Trips to a faraway shore
Rich and satisfying lore
Will leave you begging for more
Just one more
Story.
Please?
I'll go right to sleep,
I promise,
Just one more story
Too help me keep
My dreams alive tonight?
Please?
Listen...
Once upon a time
In a kingdom bright
A little dragon
Wouldn't say goodnight
He began to weep...
Because he didn't
Want to go
To sleep.
Sleep, little dragon
Don't you know?
All of us will watch
Over you
And wait for tomorrow
To hear your stories anew.
Away with sorrow,
Away with fear,
Sleep, little dragon,
You have friends here.

Symmetry 

By C.K.Armistead 

4/17/16

Symmetry  is supposed to be 

Attractive to the human mind

But it is evident to me

That my face is not

The symmetrical kind

My left eye is at a tiny bit

Of an angle

My dimples seem to sit

In something of a tangle.

It makes my smile quirk

With a twinkling sort of grace

And so it seems to work

For my particular face.

Spring Rain
By C.K. Armistead
4/18/16

And the rain came
And the waters rose
I feared for the safety
Of the new plants
Those not yet anchored
In the newly placed soil.
But they seem fine
Growing and prospering
In spite of the rain.
Perhaps because of it.
Just as we dread the dreary
Stormy times
Fearing for the safety
Of our tenuous connection
To this life
Yet they seem to bring
Deep nourishment
To our souls
Helping us flourish
In the end.

Remembrance
C.K.Armistead
4/20/16

Every year
April 19th brings
The sounds, the sights,
The feelings
Back.
The shock
The hurt
The tears.

Even now, sometimes
I see the ruin
Of that building
In my mind
And I remember
Families torn apart,
Our community's heart broken.

The day brings back
So much sadness
Those injured,
Those lost
Especially the children
Who never  had a
Chance to grow up.

It also brought gifts
The gift of love
In the face of  hatred
The gift of courage
In the face of terror,
The gift of healing
In the midst of broken hearts.

That day showed us all
Both how awful humans can be
And also how marvelous,
How loving and sacrificing
Humans can be.
That day taught me
That I, too, was now
An Oklahoman.

(In honor of the 21st anniversary of the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in downtown OKC.)

A Very Special Gift

By C.K.Armistead 

4/20/16

Perhaps the best gift

To come all unexpected  from

That sorrowful April  day

Is the musical gift

We have found

Since becoming a part

Of the choir.

In truth and in symbol

The harmonies 

We partake in 

Are a gift of fellowship 

And worship 

A wonderful unity

Found in that blend

Our individual voices

Into one.

Every week since

That awful day

We have been safe

In the midst of that

Harmony 

In the midst of our family 

Of faith.

Which if not for tragedy 

We might never

Have truly found.

Music is both worship

And prayer

Giving blessing

To both listeners

And singers.

A beautiful expression 

Of our love for God

And one another.


2016
By C.K. Armistead
4/22/16

I sit and stare at the screen
Sadness everywhere, it would seem.
So much loss, I want to scream
I truly wonder what it all means.

Once upon a time, Don McLean
Sang about the Day the Music Died
This year, to me, it seems,
Is the YEAR the artists died.

So many sad losses, one after another,
And on a personal note, we lost my mother.
Is there a plot out there to smother
Creativity?  Big Brother?

We will survive this year, I hope
Without losing anyone else so dear,
I don't know if I could cope
And despair is what I fear.



The Payoff
By C.K.Armistead
4/23/16

Now all the hard work
Of mowing and weeding
Is done.
We can relax
And maybe have
A little fun.
Sitting with a drink in hand
Surveying the beauty
Our efforts command.



Beware
By C.K.Armistead
4/25/16

The clouds are massing
To the Southwest
The teams are out tracking
The weather's brewing a mess.
Let us pray with all our might
That the Tornado monsters
Pass us by tonight.
With the ice balls they fling
And their terrible teeth
They destroy everything
That falls beneath.
This is one little town
That's had more than it's share
Of toothy tornadoes
And ice-ball filled air.
We've seen this misery all before
So tornadoes, just take yourselves
Right away from Moore.


Muses
By C.K.Armistead
4/25/16

Whimsical and inconsistent,
Oh, wordy spirits,
Hear my complaint!
You lead me on
Keep me awake all night,
Only to vanish
When I need you,
When I have time to write.
All night I hear poems,
Or clever dialog,
Interesting plot diversions,
But by morning, they are gone.
Trying to write them down at night
Is worse than trying to catch a sprite.
Whenever paper, pencil  or screen are close by
Those beautiful words and images fly.
And will not return until once more
I lie trying to sleep and listening
To my husband snore.

Calm Restored
By C.K. Armistead
4/26/16

The noisy meteorological show
Has finished it's bluster,
Gone somewhere else to rumble and blow.
And I  have my tidy world again
Where all is well and safe
Where nothing can harm
Or scare me
My happy place.
For you are here,
Your arms enfold me
There is no fear
When you hold me.


Happy Birthday, Mom
By C.K.Armistead
4/27/16

You aren't here anymore
Where I can send you things
Or call you up and say
I hope your day was wonderful
And I love you.
So,
Happy Birthday, Mom,
I miss you.
I survived another round of
Bad weather last night
Matt's doing well,
He sends his love.
I got to spend time with
Amy and her little girl
The last time I was
Back in California.
They are both well,
 And Amy's husband
Is a good man.
I went out there
To say goodbye to you
And to see where you and Pop
Are remembered formally
Upon this earth.
The place looks nice, all the trees
Are bigger, LOTS bigger than when
We said goodbye to Pop.
Not so easy to see downtown
From there anymore.
But the wind whispers stories
Through those trees,
And I bet Pop would love the place.
Mostly,
You are both remembered and loved
In our hearts,
All four of us,
and anyone else who ever knew you.
I miss you both,
And I hope you are together,
Because someday,
I want to see you both again.
And I hope you'll be proud of me
Of all I am,
Of all I have done,
Even though it isn't for wealth or fame,
I have made lives better.
I DO make lives better,
One little bit at a time,
Every day,
Every time I go to work.
Sometimes in a very quiet way,
A lot like you did.
I learned a lot about
How to be kind
From you.
I really miss you,  Mommy-Mo.


Sleep
By C.K. Armistead
4/28/16

Thou elusive sprite,
I'll catch thee yet!
My eyes shut tight,
The bedclothes my net.
Even though you do scorn
My company,
Long afore morn,
Mine ye shall be!
Leave off the aches that plague
Leave off the sniffling nose
I must fatigue assuage,
Before sanity goes.
Quiet,  thou clacking brain,
And peace, ye racing thoughts,
Let peaceful calm remain
And let sweet sleep be caught.



Escape
By C. K. Armistead
4/29/16

When reality is just a bit too much
I find a better place to look
For comfort, distraction, and such
I simply sit and read a book.
Doesn't have to be the paper kind,
Even though those are very nice
If it's electronic, I don't mind,
As long as there's power for the device.
Sometimes, I find myself dreaming
And making up my own tales
Instead of just reading,
Against harsh reality, writing prevails.
I crawl into my cozy world
And visit with old friends
Until my ennui is cured
And I can face life once again.


Seeking Sanctuary
(A poem based on Beauty and the Beast 1987)
By C.K. Armistead
4/26/16, edited 4/29/16

Catherine's thoughts one stormy night:

How I wish I  could go Below tonight. 

The wind is high,

The clouds are ripe, 

There's going to be

A storm up here.

I wish I could be 

Where candle flame

Glows cheerily

And everyone knows my name.

I wish I could go there

To my safest place where

I'll come to no harm 

When I  see his face

And rest in the safety

Of his arms.

Old Friends
By C.K.Armistead
4/30/16

I stumbled across an old friend today
An old TV show I used to love
When I was very young
And full of dreams.
This show, I should say,
Is not something girls are "supposed"
To have liked
In that era, when I was young.
It involved rockets and space ships
And rescues
And I am sure far more boys watched it.
But I adored it.
Never did I feel I could not
Be one of the daring crew
That went out and saved
People in need.
Not that I WANTED to,
But I felt I could have.
I just adored the machines
And the things they could do.
These old friends reminded me
Of a couple of other
Favorites.
One that I never let go of
And another I had almost forgotten.
One was a giant robot
Controlled by a young boy
The other was the crew of a Starship
Whose adventures I've followed
Forever after.
Because they made me dream
Gave me hope
Made me wonder how
We could get to a world
That much better than this one.
Yep. I was a geeky fangirl
LONG before it was cool.

In Memory Of My Mother

Mom holding me.

Last Friday my Mom finally left us.  She's been on her way away from us for the last several years, really, and we knew, once our Aunt Margaret passed, that it was only a matter of time before Mom followed her.  They were closer than any sisters I have ever known.  Even when they lived thousands of miles apart, they wrote and called regularly.  Once Mom  retired, she moved back to Alabama to live next door to Aunt Margaret, and for quite a few years, they had a good time going and doing things together with the church group, or on car trips with my older sister when she'd go to visit.  I was in Germany when Mom moved back to Alabama, and though I used to call her every day when we were still in California, at that time, long distance from Germany was VERY expensive, so I only called once in a while.

Friends seem concerned about me, well, I am grateful for their concern, and I am sure I will have my weepy moments over the next weeks, but I've been having those for a few years  now.  The Mom we knew has been gone awhile.  The lady who could giggle at herself and at situations, the one who told me I was the smartest girl in the world, and the prettiest, the one who asked me for good mystery author recommendations, who asked about the library and my writing, that woman's been gone a long time.  She was still my Mom, and still funny, but she'd tell the same stories five or six times every time you talked to her.  The same stories every time you called.  She forgot a lot of things, but she never forgot that she loved me.  She always told me so.  She also never forgot my Pop, and how much she loved him.  The stories she told over and over were usually about Pop. How he called her "Sweet."  Never called her "Beautiful", like Matt calls me, but "Sweet". ( I told her it's because she was so sweet, and I'm not always. She giggled.)

I am glad to say that I got the chance to make sure she knew I loved her, too.  I told her so every time I talked to her.  More than anyone else, Mom made an impact on  my life, on my personality and my outlook on things.  I have a lot of my own opinions, and certainly my own style, but Mom influenced me more than she did the other kids.  They never had as much of her undivided attention as I did.  I was very glad that my sister started calling her every day, and going to see her twice a year, being involved with Mom as an adult.  I had a few years of that, even though I was still living at home for part of it.   It was basically me and Mom and Pop from the time I was 9 until I was married at 24.  They realized I was a grown up, finally, when I married Matt and STAYED all by myself in that house in DOWNTOWN San Bernardino the first time he went TDY.  Hey, it was my house, too.  I cleaned it, worked in the yard, re-arranged the furniture.  I lived there, too.  My folks knew what a big chicken I can be, and they were sure I'd never stay there alone.  They were wrong.  Like I said.  My house.  I wasn't going to let anything happen to it.  

What can I tell you about my Mom?  Well, she had a great sense of humor, and she loved to read until very recently, that is.  She's the one who used to walk with me to the little branch library on Compton Blvd. near our house, and insist I not check out more books than I could carry home myself, because she was going to check out some books for herself, and couldn't carry mine, too.  She discovered I could read when I started sounding out the Campbell's soup labels at the grocery store when I was about 3.  She knew I was reading for two reasons.  One:  Campbell's soup cans in those days had no pictures on the labels, and Two:  I asked her what mine-strone soup was.  I was trying to sound out minestrone, and using my Phonics like a good girl, I got the pronunciation wrong.  She told me the right way to say it, and explained that it was a sort of Italian vegetable soup.  (You see, my older sister used to play flashcard games with me.  She liked to show me off to her friends.  "See how smart my little sister is?"  Or so Mom told me, I don't remember anything except playing with the flashcards. Sometimes feels to me like I could always read.)

Me reading, about age 4 or 5 (In a dress Mom made, by the way.)

Mom and I had a lot of years together, basically just the two of us all day.  Until I started school, that is.  The other kids were in junior high and high school, and Mom and I got to do fun stuff together.  She let me lick the bowl when she made cookies, or fudge, or frosting.  When I was old enough, she taught me how to read a recipe, and how to measure, then she bought me my own Boys and Girls Cookbook, and turned me loose.  I learned to make a lot of things, and to this day I make chili based on the way she taught me.  She made a lot of my clothes, and I usually got to pick out patterns and fabric.  I never did get the knack of sewing like she did, though.  I have no patience for it.  Though she did like the way I cut patterns out, and through my college years would have me lay out and cut out her patterns for her when she made clothes.

Pop and me and Mom on my wedding day.

Mom and Pop both told me that I was the one who started calling her Mommy-Mo.  I don't remember, but I know Pop called her that sometimes, especially when he and I were ready to leave for somewhere, and she was lagging behind.  "Mommy-Mo!  Are you ready to go?!"  he'd holler, and she'd always answer "I'm right here, just a minute!"

 Mother and daughter selfie, about a year and a half ago.

As I said, I'll have my weepy days, and I am glad my friends, family, and coworkers will understand.  She was a huge part of my life, and though she's been drifting away for a while, I'll still miss her.  She taught me so much, and I've always wanted to be as well loved as Mommy-Mo was.  Lots of little kids got to have her for a preschool teacher,  and they all loved her, she had an in-home daycare for several years, and those kids all loved her, and of course, all four of us loved her, too.
Oh, she and I had our differences, all mothers and daughters do, but we got along most of the time.  I was always afraid that I had hurt her feelings when I was little and would ask her not to sing. (She was ALWAYS under pitch, and while I don't have perfect pitch, I have pretty good relative pitch, and it used to annoy me.) She thought it was funny.  She said all four of us kids asked her please not to sing.  Well, I am proud of her that she sang anyway.  She took a music class when she got her preschool certification, and she passed that with flying colors, and the kids in her classes never complained.  I helped her with some of the songs she was learning, and if she LISTENED, she could stay more or less on pitch.  It is really all a matter of learning to listen, and in my case as I age, to PAY ATTENTION to what your voice is doing.

I'll end this with a poem I wrote for Mom in 1988.  I am glad that I gave it to her when I wrote it, so she knew how much she meant, how much she gave me, and that I knew the depth of that gift.

For Mommy-Mo
By C.K. Armistead
1988

My mornings were always filled with the music
Of you making our home what it was.
If I heard water running
Or the vacuum you were using,
Then I knew all was well with the world.

Your humming and laughter as you worked,
The hum of your Singer as it made dreams real,
The smell and sound of coffee as it perked,
These things still mean home to me.

The sun on my face, and the smell of a rose,
The many flowers you taught me the names of,
The feel of damp grass squeezed between my toes,
These are all things you taught me to love.

To keep my dress neat, and sit like a lady,
To keep my hands away from my face,
You taught me to be a proper young lady
Something I'll have with me always.

Through scoldings and battles when I was a teen,
Loving me wasn't easy, oh, Mommy, I know
But you kept right on loving,
Even though I was so mean,
Since you knew it was something I'd outgrow.

I am so happy that after all those years,
After all the battles did end
And because of the joys,
Yes, and the tears,
Now I can say Mommy-Mo is my friend.

Good night, Mommy-Mo.   Your baby girl loves you.  I always will.  Tell Pop I love him,too.

The Second Sunday of Advent

The Advent Wreath

Which happens to also be the first night of Hanukkah!
So much light in the world this week, in spite of the darkness that is trying to snuff out that light.

This week, even though we have heard news of evil deeds, I have seen acts of compassion and kindness right here in our own home town that give me hope.  Indeed, such things go on all the time, but the world only seems to note the devastating and evil things, never the hopeful things.

Perhaps, in this season of anticipation and the growing of light, we SHOULD focus on the good things in people, and ignore those who would seek attention by their evil acts.  We should avoid lashing out in anger, and rather gather ourselves in love, because love is far stronger than anger, or hate.

Father Tim Sean Youmans, who serves in our parish at St. Paul's, and teaches at Cassidy School, preached a very good sermon this morning.  He talked about the four basic groups that Jews were divided into at the time Jesus started His ministry, and how some of the more extreme ones actually hated the others.  Then, he pointed out how Jesus gathered His twelve disciples from ALL those groups, and got them to work together.  Even then, we were being taught that we ALL need each other, and we ALL have to work together for the good of everyone.  (For God's kingdom is all about love, and using it to overcome fear, anger, and hate.)

It is very difficult to remember love when you are hurt, shocked, and angry.  VERY difficult.  But Love is the Light that we are seeking in this dark time, Love is the Light we are anticipating, the miracle that gives us hope.  We must, in this dark, cold, season, cling to that light, keep it burning in our hearts, and warm others with its warmth, and shed the light on the way for all.

Rambling Thoughts On A Friday The 13th Evening...

So much tragedy everywhere on this all too tiny planet we call home.  So much of this tragedy made by our own greed and unwillingness to listen or even try to understand one another.
The events in Paris call forth loving messages of sympathy from many, dredge up bitter anger from some who feel their own tragedies are ignored.  The loss of ANY life is tragic.  Perhaps places like Paris get more notice because they are more present in the Western mind, more real, more recent.  It is unfortunate, but often true.  That does not mean we don't care about the losses in Syria, Iraq, Iran, any place plagued by unrest and war.  What does happen is that we become fatigued by so much information about tragedy in those places, and alas, we begin to EXPECT tragedy in those places.
The atrocities committed during any war or any terrorist act ANYWHERE are deplorable, and injure mankind.
Donne said it best:
" No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in makind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

We are all of us part of the same whole.  Some people really don't want to believe that, but it's true.  We are ONE race, the HUMAN race, and whether we like it or not, we're stuck with each other.
Those who would claim the Christian faith must remember that our Founder told us as much.  We have been instructed by Jesus Himself:
"Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith:
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.  This is the first and great commandment  And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.  On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets."
-from the Book Of Common Prayer, 1979, Holy Eucharist Rite I, page 324. Quote is from the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter22, verses 37-40

I find it continually baffling that so many of those who profess to be Christians forget these two commandments.  Assuredly, they ARE difficult.  To love God so profoundly is beyond the grasp of most of us, and as to loving our neighbors as we love ourselves, well, first we have to love ourselves, and most of us truly do not. We operate quite often out of our insecurities, our deep knowledge and fear and hate of our own faults.  Many times, we ENVY our neighbors, who to US seem to have it together far better than WE do, when in reality, they are JUST as insecure as we are.
It is well past time to start looking beyond our own hurts and insecurities, and seeing the wounded people that we ALL are, it is well past time to look with compassion, not pity, but in recognition of the hurts of others in light of our own hurts.
Every day, I know I fall short of this standard, every day I pray for grace to do better, for strength of will to surpass my own love of the status quo.  I see so many obviously trying to do good, to reach out in love.  We must all try, and we must shore each other up when the going gets rough.  No regard to belief system, or ethnicity, or any difference that truly IS no difference.  We are ALL human, we are all on this planet together, and we need each other.  ALL of us.  For our own sake, we need to remember that.
For those of us who are Christians, we must remember that Jesus basically told us as much in that passage about the Great commandments.  We are all children of God, loved by God, and we are responsible TO and FOR each other.  I don't think Jesus was making any distinctions about your neighbor's race, or religion, or anything else.  Your neighbor.  Your fellow human being, that person that maybe you don't really like, but you know what?  He's stuck on this planet with you, just the same as you're stuck with him.  Really not easy, that "loving your neighbor" stuff.  I know.  I fail at it every day.  Every time someone gets on my very last nerve, or says something completely stupid, racist and hateful in the media.  I don't love that particular neighbor very much at that point.  Perhaps I need to pray for them instead of call them nasty names in my head.  Might be better for me, and it might even improve them.  Worth a shot.  Tell you what, you pray, or think good thoughts, or whatever your particular belief system asks you to do, for me, and I'll do the same for you.  If all of us do it, maybe it really will work, and we really will improve.  Even a little bit would be good.

Another quote comes to mind when I think about this planet of ours, and our need to get along on it.  This one is from Star Trek.  (HEY, I'm a geek girl, remember?  I cut my teeth on Star Trek fandom.  Don't let that put you off, there's a REASON that show stuck with so many of us for so long.)

"KIRK: Give me your hand. Your hand. (she does) Now feel that. Human flesh against human flesh. We're the same. We share the same history, the same heritage, the same lives. We're tied together beyond any untying. Man or woman, it makes no difference. We're human. We couldn't escape from each other even if we wanted to. That's how you do it, Lieutenant. By remembering who and what you are. A bit of flesh and blood afloat in a universe without end. The only thing that's truly yours is the rest of humanity. That's where our duty lies."

Even if we believe that we do not share the same heritage or history, we really do.  We are all the product of living on this planet.  Everything that happens on this planet effects everything else on it.  We do not really live isolated from one another, as much as we might wish to believe sometimes. We need to remember that we are responsible to one another, and FOR one another.  
Sigh.  So difficult to do, but so essential.  There is no easy answer.  Humans are complicated, and we love to complicate things.  Doing what sounds simple is the hardest thing of all.
That's about all I have to say on that subject right now.

On to other things:

Today should be a day of happy celebration for a friend of mine.  It is the anniversary of her birth.  Yet this tragedy in Paris happened, and it has cast a pall on her happiness.  
I for one wish to celebrate the fact that she was born, and is still here on this earth.  She is a person who has a generous, loving heart and a fast wit, who has suffered many things, and yet still finds joy in life, who shares her light with all of us, even those she's never met face to face.  I know she loves me, and I love her like a baby sister, or a niece, someone close and treasured.  Even though we have never met in person.  
So, I hope that her birthday is still a day of joy for her, a day that she realizes that there are MANY of us out here who are very, very glad she was born, and that she loves us. 
Happy birthday , Fi.  Be well, and know that you are LOVED.
 

What Lasts

My Mom is slowly leaving us.  Her mind is wandering off.  She forgets to eat, she forgets what day it is, sometimes she forgets where she is, but she never forgets the ones she loves.  She always knows us kids when we call, and my sister and I visited last week, and she knew exactly who we were.  She remembers all about our Pop, and what a good husband he was.  She misses him.  She remembers love. 
Of all the things we have in this life, of all the things we leave behind, love is the one that trumps them all.  When I remember my childhood, I don't remember all the stuff I had, I remember all the fun I had with my siblings and with Mom and Pop.  I remember the love.  Our family isn't very demonstrative, or especially mushy, but we know we are loved.  We have had our differences, our ups and downs, and our distances, but we love each other.  Love is durable.  It can stand a few falls into the dust, and come up shinier than ever. 

When I leave this world, I want to be remembered for being loving.  Love is the best thing to give, because it multiplies and comes back to you.  I want to be thought of with love.  To achieve that, I have to be willing to be giving and loving even when that is hard work. 
Marriage teaches you what hard work loving can be.  If you learn the lessons well, you come out stronger.  Matt and I have been through many ups and downs together.  We always see it through.  We love each other.  Always.  Even when we are irritated with one another, even when things get to us, we still love each other.  Matt can nearly always make me laugh.  More than 31 years together.  Both of us are still alive.  We like that old joke: "We've never once considered divorce.  Murder, yes, divorce, no."
Working with young children teaches you about the work involved in loving, too.  Patience is not one of my virtues, but for the sake of the kids I have worked with, because I love them, I learned.  I still pray for those kids who were my one full time class. I wish I could see how they all turned out.  They all still take up space in my heart.  There are many others who have added themselves to my heart over the years. 

Friends are another source of love.  I have many.  I am blessed.  A few who are especially close, more like a family.  Some I've only met online, one or two of those feel much closer than that. 

Mom had students, too.  She touched many lives when she was a preschool teacher.  Those kids loved her, and she loved them, too.  All her friends where she lives now love her.  Even the staff where she is tell us how she has worked her way into their hearts, how funny she is, how obviously caring.  Even when she isn't entirely there. 

As legacies go, one could do a lot worse than to leave behind as much love as Mom always has.  I only hope that the ones I love know they are loved.  Treasured, even. 

Those of us who are Christians, our faith calls us to love.  Jesus was (and is) all about the love.  "Love one another as I have loved you." "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your spirit, and your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets."  We are not called to judge, to see if we (or others) "measure up".  Jesus chose the broken ones, the less than sterling characters to be his disciples.  He loved them.  We are supposed to operate on the same principle.  Love.  Far too often we fall abysmally short.  That we are still loved is testament to God's faith in us, in our ability to learn and grow in love. 
I pray that we all, regardless of our faith or lack thereof, learn the value of love. That we learn to live in love, to share that love, and to leave that love behind us when we go.  Because love is the only thing that truly lasts.

Just Playing With Words

Rain
CKArmistead
May 2015

It fell first in drops,
Then in streaks,
Then sheets,
Then torrents,
And then a continuous
Deluge,
As if someone were
Spraying the world
With a giant fire hose.
I wish it would stop,
For the ground is squishy,
The plants are looking sickly,
There are mosquitoes everywhere,
Though for years we prayed for rain,
It occurs to me that
There CAN be too much
Of a good thing.

Rambling Thoughts
June 2015

I may wish I still looked young
But I know I don't.
So I leave my photos alone.
I put that saggy neck and those crepe-y arms out there
For the world to see.
Soon, I'll let my hair go gray
And find out how that will be.
On the inside
I am still the geeky fangirl
I was in my teens.
Maybe a bit more mature,
But still silly sometimes.
The older I get
The more I learn
That what's on the outside
Isn't who I am,
Except for the sparkle in my eye,
The dimples in my smile,
Put there by the brightness
In my heart.
Part of me has always felt older than my years
I feel like the rest of me is finally catching up.
There are times I feel I've heard an ancient song
Playing down the years
That nobody around me hears.
Places in my heart that bagpipes speak to,
When I've never been to Scotland,
Visions of mountains and lochs
That my eyes have never seen.
Fiddle tunes and banjo pickings
That stir my heart and set my feet to tapping.
When I have spent little time
In those places that my family lived
In this country.
Transplanted to California,
When the family was all from the South,
And the Appalachians.
Still, mariachis and flamenco guitar
Make me happy
Because they are the sounds I heard often
In my environment in my youth.
As well as Gospel songs,
Motown music,
And playground clapping chants.
Life has been so rich, so full of laughter, music, and friends
I've had the love of a good man
For many years now
We've seen good times and bad,
Been separated by thousands of miles
But still close
In our hearts. 
He's taught me to trust myself
Taken me to live in a foreign land
Vexed me something awful,
Made me laugh,
And loved me even when I was being completely unlovable.
Wherever my mind rambles,
It always wanders back to him.
My knight in smelly flightsuit,
My loadmaster,
My Matthew.

Summer
June 2015

Sticky, mosquito laden air
Makes me glad I cut off my hair
Busy, child filled library days
Make me glad I keep in shape
But the sun is so very welcome
After all the rain
Calm weather
After all the storms of May
In Oklahoma,
We are always glad to see the end of May
Too many sad anniversary days
Come around in May.
June is usually hot and dry
And that  is a blessing this year
That we are thankful for.

Poetry Has Happened Again...

Stubborn Love

By C.K. Armistead

May 2015

And what am I

That thou shouldst

Love me?

What worth hast

Thou seen

That none other can?

Why do you forgive my faults

When I insist

On counting them,

Wearing their number

Like a badge of

Dishonor

Proving that I

Am worthless?

Why dost thou love?

And with such persistence!

I know myself to be

Unworthy.

But oh, I treasure

That love of thine.

Hoarding

By C.K. Armistead

May 2015

And so I put

The three small pieces

Of chocolate

Back into the bag.

Extra saved for

Another day.

Instead of a splurge

For today.

I never wanted to become

This careful person,

This hoarder of today’s

Good things

Against tomorrow’s scarcity.

For there’s no guarantee

Of tomorrow.

And when did I become

This way

With my love?

Hoarding the one thing

That grows

If you give it away?

All I have done

Is impoverish my todays.

And my joys,

I try to hoard those

As well.

But joy unshared

Festers in storage

And begins to reek.

My solitary nature

Is averse to all

The good things I seek.

Amber

By C.K. Armistead

May 2015

O frozen blood

Of ancient tree,

Held in the thrall

Of time for me

The fire trapped

In thy soft stone

A future mapped,

Retold by a crone

In thy occluded heart

Memories of the past

Are safely caught

And held fast

O frozen tears

Of Earth's lost art,

Even after thousands of years,

Your beauty warms my heart.

I  have felt like I'm just marking time lately.  The arrival of finished poems on the page helps.  The fact that I have actually accomplished some things I set out to do today helps.  It is indeed a good thing that life comes to us one day at a time.  I must remember that when I get overwhelmed by what I must do, must deal with.  

Thursday Night At The Library is over for another week, and tomorrow's FRIDAY!!!  

Life is indeed good.